


Then, Unexpectedly

by weaponofmasscreation



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Closure, F/M, Help, Sherlolly - Freeform, Spoilers, it destroyed my heart, you need to watch episode 3 ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9625157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaponofmasscreation/pseuds/weaponofmasscreation
Summary: Molly Hooper never thought she'd get a chance to say the words that have tormented her for so many years. Or that Sherlock would ask her to say them. Or that he would say them to her, when she asked.She also never thought he would turn up on her doorstep to apologize and explain, of all things. This was Sherlock, after all.But then, unexpectedly...(I needed closure after episode 3. So I wrote my own.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I finished season 4 the other day and let me tell you, if you haven't seen it, prepare for ALL THE FEELS.
> 
> Basically, the first chapter is straight outta episode 3, so if you want context, you'd better watch that first.
> 
> I needed some kind of Sherlolly closure afterwards. This is that closure. Enjoy.

She should have been used to the unexpected, after all this time. Her life was strange and unusual and never boring, and now it was extra stressful with a child to babysit.

Molly Hooper was rarely surprised by anything anymore, but the day Sherlock called her raised the tier of 'weird' for him.

She almost didn't pick up. Rosie had only just gone to sleep, and Molly was so tired...

It didn't help that she'd been crying. She couldn't help it- the baby was demanding, she was still mourning John's wife, and Sherlock... well... She was sure he'd be able to tell that she'd been crying. She didn't want to have to explain herself to that ridiculous, insufferable... amazing man. 

She began slicing a lemon for tea, needing something to relax her, but the phone kept ringing. Usually he gave up and tried someone else, but not this time. He wanted her, specifically.

She glared at the ringing phone, then slowly wiped her hands and reached for it. For a split second, she imagined herself slapping him the way she had a few times before, telling him off for disturbing her few moments of peace and quiet. But then it was gone, and she answered wearily.

"Hello, Sherlock. Is this urgent, ’cause I’m not having a good day."

On the other end, Sherlock spoke quickly, obviously in a hurry. "Molly, I just want you to do something very easy for me, and not ask why."

Molly sighed in exasperation. "Oh, God. Is this one of your stupid games?"

"No, it’s not a game. I ... need you to help me."

"Look, I’m not at the lab." Neither was she going to run off to the hospital just for him. 

"It’s not about that."

She fiddled around on the counter, nervous as she always was when talking to him. "Well, quickly, then."

There was silence on the other end.

Her annoyance grew. "Sherlock? What is it? What do you want?"

He took a breath. "Molly, please, without asking why, just say these words."

She smiled in spite of herself, a little intruiged. "What words?"

A paused, then: "I love you"

Her smile dropped, and the phone almost dropped with it. Sniffing, she looked down at the screen and moved her thumb towards it, ready to terminate the call. "Leave me alone." 

Sherlock voice grew louder, as thought he knew the phone was no longer near her ear. She wouldn't have been surprised. "Molly, no, please, no, don’t hang up! Do not hang up!"

Molly raised the phone to her ear again, wondering if he could hear how hard her heart was beating. Tears pushed at the corner of her vision. "Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making fun of me?"

His voice was slightly softer now- God, how loved and hated that voice. "Please, I swear, you just have to listen to me." There was a paused, and she heard voices in the background. Was that a woman's voice? When he came back, he had his 'calming voice' on. "Molly, this is for a case. It’s ... it’s a sort of experiment." 

A pang of anger shot through her. "I’m not an experiment, Sherlock."

"No, I know you’re not an experiment. You’re my friend. We’re friends." Oh, how that word hurt, even after all this time. "But ... please. Just ... say those words for me."

There was a pain in her heart, but whether it was physical or mental, she couldn't tell. Why was this happening? What kind of sick joke was he playing on her? "Please don’t do this. Just ... just ... don’t do it."

"It’s very important." She could hear the fake smile he had plastered over his stupid pretty face, and was suddenly reminded of Jim. "I can’t say why, but I promise you it is."

She couldn't breathe, all of a sudden. "I can’t say that. I can’t ... I can’t say that to you."

"Of course you can. Why can’t you?"

"You know why." He wasn't that oblivious.

"No, I don’t know why." Was that genuine confusion, or another manipulation trick?

Molly sighed heavily, sniffed and wiped a hand across her nose. "Of course you do."

"Please, just say it."

"I can’t," she breathed, "Not to you."

"Why?"

"Because..." Her voice broke, and she looked down at the bench, screwing her eyes shut. "Because it’s true."

There was silence on his end.

"Because... it’s..." She took a breath and started to cry. "...true, Sherlock. It’s always been true."

His next words were free of emotion, as if he had carefully prepared them. "Well, if it’s true, just say it anyway."

She laughed in disbelief and heaved a heavy sigh. Always so logical. "You bastard."

"Say it anyway," he repeated firmly.

She set her jaw, refusing to cry again. "You say it. Go on. You say it first." She doubted he would. This would end the stupid joke for sure.

"What?"

"Say it." Without meaning to, she softened her voice like he had with her. "Say it like you mean it."

Slowly, hesitantly... "I-I..."

Molly closed her eyes against the tears and pressed the phone closer to her ear, close to him. Was he actually going to do it? Did she really want him to?

Then, without warning: "I love you."

The words jolted her heart, making her feel a little giddy. Molly sighed softly and smiled a little, pressing her thumb against her mouth. 

He said it again, softer this time. "I love you."

She closed her eyes again for a moment and brought the phone round to look at its screen. 

"Molly?" he called cautiously.

Her finger hovered over the screen, tempted to hang up on him, to cancel her part of the bargain and leave him with the words he couldn't possibly have meant.

"Molly, please."

Gazing into the distance and holding the phone in both hands, she took a breath, heart hammering. With her mouth almost touching the phone, she spoke softly. "I love you."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and then...

There was a long beep, and the call ended.

She stood there for a moment, trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. With shaking hands, she placed the phone back on the bench and stared at her teacup. The tears that had been threatening to come out finally spilled over, and she wept.

What have I done?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: FLUFF AHEAD.

John had been and gone, taking Rosie with him, by the time her doorbell rang with the simple insistence that she recognised. It had been the day after the fateful phone call that he came around, looking worn and haggard around the eyes, but his voice was soft and his manner was gentle. She knew within the first few minutes that he knew. She felt it in the careful enquiry of her health and the way he squeezed her hand after shaking it. It was the way he always acted after Sherlock had messed up somehow. 

How did he know? She didn't ask. She was ashamed to admit that she was afraid to.

She wasn't expecting Sherlock to come over. Her apartment was one of his 'safe spots', sure, but he hadn't bothered with it for a while, and she knew she was a fool to think that he would come over to apologize. Sherlock hardly ever apologized, and when he did, it was generally a spur of the moment thing, prompted by John. And an explanation? You usually had to drag that out of him. 

So when the doorbell rang a couple of days later, Molly was unprepared. She uncurled from her couch and stared at the front door, concerned, but grateful for the distraction from her thoughts.

Still, she dawdled. Molly wasn't the type to avoid things, but the fleeting thought that it could be Sherlock crossed her mind, no matter how unlikely. There was no good reason for it to be him, but the whole situation had made her an emotional wreck, and what could she say? He was on her mind a lot more often now. And even with that slight possibility, she found that she was afraid. She didn't know what she wanted to hear more- an apology or a confirmation of those words.

Those words...

The bell continued to ring, just like the phone had. Molly felt her feet move towards it without her telling them to, and she had just enough time to take a calming breath before her hand was turning the lock, her mind racing. Of course it wouldn't be him. It was the mailman, or John again, or Greg...

Then, unexpectedly-

There he stood, in all his curly-haired, high-collared gorgeousness. She felt her heart skip a beat at the sight, just as it had for almost a decade of knowing him. Of course she should've known that Fate could not be kind enough to spare her this agony. Well, she wouldn't fall for any of his tricks this time. She wasn't a fool.

But instead of looking smug or carefully blank, his expression was troubled. He stood with his hands in his pockets, staring somewhere around her left shoulder, and didn't say a word.

They stood in silence for a moment, until Molly awkwardly cleared her throat. "Did you... want to come in?"

His eyes snapped up to meet hers. "Yes."

His response was... strange. She stepped away and let him enter, closing the door behind them, feeling slightly dazed. Wondering when the charade would end. When he would stop looking so damn unsure and tell her what the hell was going on. 

He stood in the middle of her living room, staring intently at her. Well, that wasn't so unusual. He was either ignoring or staring, no in-between. She fidgeted with her sleeve and turned away from his intense gaze. "I'll put the tea on."

"Yes."

Somehow she found her way to the kitchen. She stared at her boxes of tea, eyes roaming over the labels without reading. What was he doing here? How was she supposed to act, now that she had bared her soul to him? Was he here to gloat and mock, blackmail her with her admission of love? There was no need for him to take back his own admission, the one she had forced out of him to allow herself to play the stupid game. She knew it was fake. Why couldn't he just leave things alone?

The tears starting to drip down her cheeks brought her out of her daze, and she hastily wiped her eyes and hoped her nose wasn't red. He would be able to tell she had been crying, she just knew it. Annoyed with herself, she grabbed two mugs and started making tea. With any luck, he would say his part and be gone in no time.

When had luck ever worked for her, though?

He was still standing when she returned with the tea, hands in his pockets as he gazed around the room. He took the mug she offered him and had a sip, mind obviously too far away to notice the burn.

She sat down, settling into her chair and watching him start pacing the length of the room. "You can sit down, if you want."

His only response was a hum of acknowledgement as he continued to slowly pace a hole in the floor.

She couldn't stand the silence, not when there was such a large elephant in the room. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. What was she supposed to say? 'Sherlock, I don't actually love you. I only said it cause you asked.' That was a contradiction in itself. 'Sherlock, how dare you mess with my head like that! I hate you!' Inaccurate, and she didn't feel up to scolding him. 

The silence was becoming unbearable. She took a breath and squeezed her eyes shut. "Sherlock-" she started, the same time he turned and said "Molly-"

They looked at each other for a moment, and she suddenly felt self-conscious in her simple jeans and stained sweater, the same old mousy Molly she always was, that he often ignored or accidentally insulted. After a moment, she gestured to him to talk, sinking low in her chair to wait for whatever knife he was ready to twist in her this time.

"Molly Hooper." His hand strayed to his pocket, then crept back to balance his mug. "I had to come and... and... explain. Or apologize. Or both. Um..."

Holy hell, universe. Will you ever be done with these surprises?

"Did John make you come?" It sounded cold, even to her ears, but she knew him. He didn't just do things like this.

"He suggested that you might want an explanation for the phone call-"

She scoffed, feeling pressure behind her eyes. I will not cry. I WILL NOT cry.

"-and I agreed with him."

What?

He nodded at her surprise. "I am not so monsterous as you may think. I don't pretend to understand the entirety of human emotions, but... even I could see that you were greatly affected."

See? What did he mean? Had he been... filming her?

He put up his hands, anticipating her questions. "I promise to explain all. You deserve to know."

The words brought a little warmth into her heart. She deserved to know. This was not the dismissive, rude Sherlock she was used to. 

He looked around for a moment, then took a seat in the couch across from her. Another sip of tea, then he put it aside and folded his hands, blue steel meeting deep brown. "The plain fact of the matter is that I was trapped in an elaborate game devised by my secret psychopathic sister."

She blinked a few times, already struggling to catch up. "Secret... sister."

"Yes." He waved his hand dismissively. "It's a long story and I'm still coming to grips with most of it, but yes. Secret sister. Psychopath. Locked up in a supposedly secure facility that she actually had control of. She designed a game for me to play, to test my mental skills. And, uh... you were part of it. She threatened to blow you up if I didn't make you say the release code."

"Oh." What else could she say? Of course she believed him. "Th-that makes sense, I suppose."

"Does it?" It was unnerving how he never once took his eyes off hers. "You're taking this very well, Molly."

She quirked an eyebrow. "What did you expect?"

"I don't know. More... crying, possibly." He shrugged and suddenly stood, straightening his coat. "But then you are quite sensible, usually."

"Thanks..." she frowned. "Are you going already?"

"Why, was there something- Oh wait, was there an apology too? Fine. I'm sorry for upsetting you. I hope you feel better." He nodded, satisfied with himself, and headed for the door.

"Wait!" Why did she want him to stay? She had gotten what she needed. But... "You haven't told me how you saw me. Or how your sister had the means to blow up my flat! Did she plant bombs? Are they still here?" She was babbling now, but if it made him stay here, standing in her flat just like her used to...

He shoved his hands in his pockets, glacing around in an attempt to look bored. "She was filming you. It added to the suspense, I suppose. And as for bombs, you were never in any danger. She simply wanted to motivate me by threatening your life."

It was nice to know that he cared enough about her to not let her be blown up. She almost laughed at her pathetic attempt at finding emotion in him.

"Oh. Ok." She found herself standing, and took a sip of tea for lack of something to do with her hands. "Um, thanks. For explaining. And apologising. And, you know, not letting me be hypothetically blown up."

He nodded and turned away, then stopped as he thought of something. "...Molly?"

"Yes, Sherlock?" How she hated the eagerness in her voice.

"Why did you... do that?"

"Do what?"

"You know what."

She did, but she wanted to hear it from his own lips. Her heart was suddenly pounding again. "N-no."

He sighed in frustration. "Why did you ask me to say it first?"

Her lips twitched. He was going to kill her for this. "Say what first?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, but said the words. "I love you." 

She closed her eyes as the words echoed through her. I love you. I love you. I lo-

"Molly. Why did you do it?"

Of course it came to this. And she had thought nothing would be too hard after her heartfelt admission over the phone. "Because... B-because I knew I'd never hear it under normal circumstances. Because I needed to hear it at least once, even if it forced, or a big joke. I-I just..." Her voice was thick with tears, but she still refused to cry in front of him. "I needed it. That's all."

"Why?" His eyes were piercing, his voice low, and she had to fight hard not to swoon.

"B-because- does there have to be a reason?"

"Yes."

She laughed humourlessly, shaking her head. "You really have no idea about human emotions, do you? After all this time-"

"Molly, I'm... trying." He took a step forward. "I am trying to understand. This kind of thing isn't my forte. I don't do..." He gestured to her, then to himself. "...this. I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to understand." He took another step. "So why did you make me tell you that I love you?"

She glared at him, clenching her fists. "Because I love YOU, and people generally want to know their love is returned. Even if it was forced, or fake, or whatever, it felt nice for a few seconds. That's why. Why is it such a big deal anyway?"

"Because I've never said it before." He glanced around uneasily. "I've never told anyone I love them. Not from memory. I'm not capable of such an emotion."

"I don't believe you." She found herself moving closer to him, until she was looking up to see his eyes. "Friendship is a type of love. John is your friend. Greg is your friend." She reached out and touched his chest, pressing her palm against his heart. "I am your friend. It may take you a little longer to process emotions, but they're there. You do love."

His hand found hers and she grasped it for a moment, lacing her fingers through his. Neither of them spoke. Then, impulsively, Molly leaned in and quickly pressed her lips to his.

For a few seconds, she felt everything and nothing. For a few seconds, there were fireworks and butterflies in her chest, and delicious tingles in her fingers and toes. 

Soft warmth was quickly replaced by cold air as she just as quickly pulled away and dropped his hand, stepping back. The activity happening in her body was replaced with redness that she could feel creeping down her neck. Sherlock hadn't moved- in fact, he seemed frozen to the spot. How was it that he looked more shocked now than he ever did when she slapped him?

"I-I'm sorry." Damn it, why did those tears keep coming back? "I won't do it again, I promise, I just had to try it." 

"Molly..." He shook his head, not meeting her eyes. "You deserve more than the apology I gave you. I genuinely am sorry for all you had to go through. I do not appreciate my friends being played with, especially those who have stuck with me for so long..." He sighed and finally met her eyes, taking a step forward. "You have put up with so much. You have done the most ridiculous things to assure my safely, and you are not afraid to tell me when I'm acting like a prick. You have..." he swallowed, "loved me, for so many years, with nothing to show for it except the pain I continue putting you through. You deserve so much more. More than I think I can give you. But..." He reached for her hand. "I'll try my best."

She let him take her hand, wide-eyed. "What do you-"

Then, unexpectedly-

In one swift movement, he pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers.

Molly's mind melted away as he kissed her, slowly and gently, as if they had all the time in the world. Had she been angry? She couldn't remember. She couldn't think of anything except that Sherlock Holmes was kissing her, brushing her hair out of her face with the hand that wasn't still holding hers. Her stomach bubbled with excitement and terror as she brought up a hand to touch his face. For once, she wasn't slapping it. Instead, she ran a thumb over his sharp cheekbone and raked her fingers through his hair.

He broke away and rested his forehead against hers, still stroking her cheek. "Sorry excuse for compensation, I know," he whispered.

"Oh, I didn't think so." She couldn't stop grinning, even with tears still pushing at her vision. "I'd say you compensated very well."

He stepped back, the tiniest smirk betraying his amusement. "Well. I'll be off then."

"Yes." 

He nodded and headed out. She walked him to the door and watched him disappear down the street, collar up, coat blowing in the wind. She knew the kiss hadn't really meant anything to him. She wasn't silly enough to think they had a chance now. But she was grateful. He had gone out of his comfort zone to give her a gift- proof that he did care, that he wasn't the heartless bastard she had thought he was for the last few days.

She touched her lips and a half-laugh, half-sob escaped her. How she loved that incredible, ridiculous man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so satisfying to write. Sherlolly has a special place in my black heart. I hope I haven't strayed to far into OCC land. 
> 
> Should I write more for this ship? Should I continue this as a multi-chapter story? Tell me what you think.
> 
> Stay cool, everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> Closure next chapter. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to cry in a corner.


End file.
